Sunday, September 23, 2012

Where the Heart Is

Another one pulled from the recesses of my computer, although it was written more recently--for a summer writing program at Smith College. One of my very few pieces of realistic contemporary fiction, though I did consider an alternate version with magic involved before realizing it would betray the integrity of the story. Enjoy, and by all means, comment!

Note: contains LGBT romance. If for some reason you're uncomfortable with that, it is certainly your right to have that opinion, but please refrain from starting a flame war on my blog.

Where the Heart Is

The street is lined
with houses painted in a multitude of different shades, but somehow
they all manage to look the same. Driveways to the left with garages
behind them, front yards where wives have spent all their energy
making sure their rows of zinnias and hyacinths are perfectly
straight. Cats on the windowsills, dogs with sad eyes peering out of
the screen doors and longing to go out. Middle-class, middle-aged
people sit on the porches, sipping lemonade and watching others walk
by.

The house she is
looking for is pale yellow, with a cat and a yard covered with
lithidora heavenly blue flowers. There are no people on the porch;
perhaps they're eating lunch inside or out back or in another house,
street, or town entirely. But the house remains: 246 Owen Boulevard.

Rose hasn't dared
to get this close to it in five years.

She takes in a deep
breath and steps forward, the first step on her journey down the
sidewalk and onto the porch and past the door. Beside her, Evy
squeezes her hand in support. Her touch is soft and the lavender
cream on her hand spreads onto Rose's palm, smoothing down the skin
which is clammy with nervous sweat. Rose inhales, taking in sweet
scent that clings to her partner in the hopes that it will keep her
calm. She memorizes it all: Evy's face. Her smile. Her hair,
strawberry blonde locks slipping out of her messy ponytail. Her eyes,
shimmering in the light. Her smell. Lavender. Her touch... Every time
Rose starts to get angry or flustered or scared, she'll remember that
moment and hopefully it'll get her through. Newly emboldened, she
marches down the pavement, feet beating against the concrete with
every step she takes.

Evy walks a little
less forcefully, but always stays at Rose's side. She's there to
provide encouragement, though deep inside of her she's afraid that
she won't be as effective as she needs to be. Her family had accepted
her almost immediately, without judgment; she had of course
experienced some prejudice but nothing
compared to what Rose had gone through. Rose had tried to explain how
she felt as best she could, but Evy simply doesn't know if it's
enough. It's like the difference between sympathy and empathy, and if
there's anything her partner needs now, it's the latter.

Soon the two of them are just in front of the steps leading up to the
door of the house. Rose has to remind herself to breathe while the
deepest hatred she has ever felt bubbles up inside of her, ready to
burst. All those years ago, when all hell broke loose and her worst
nightmares became a reality—that had all started with this house,
started with these steps. It takes all her willpower not to pull a
match out of her pocket and scream while lighting the whole street on
fire.

“It's
okay,” Evy says softly, placing her hand on Rose's shoulder,
“you're fine, you're doing great.” She kisses her hand and draws
her close, hoping to God that it helps rather than hurts. “It's
going to be all right. Everything's going to be all right.” She can
see tears brimming Rose's eyes and presses her lips against her
lover's. The warmth and comfort of the embrace brings hope to them
both. After a moment, they hesitantly pull away, neither of them
really wanting to end it so soon. “I think I'm ready,” says Rose
with a nod, and together they climb the stairs.

Evy is the one who rings the doorbell. After a dreadful minute of
silence, the door is thrown open by a teenage boy whose eyes widen
immediately upon seeing the couple. Rose's younger brother, Gabriel.
He had been twelve years old when she had left.

“Gabe,”
Rose breathes. He's grown so much since she last saw him: shot up at
least a foot in height, cropped his greasy hair short, gained a
stubble of a beard. She moves in to hug him, but he backs away almost
reflexively, crossing his arms. She winces, memories of painful
emails and attempted phone calls flooding her mind.

Noticing
her hurt expression, Gabe tries to keep his voice soft but can't help
the defensive edge creeping into his words. “Rose. Why... why are
you here?”

“To
make things right.” She begins to tremble, then stops herself. She
can't have the family seeing her this way, least of all Gabe. The boy
glances over at Evy and then back at Rose, and she nods to answer his
silent question. Yes. Yes, this is my girlfriend. Her name
is Evelyn Adler and she's the most beautiful person I have ever met
in my life.

The
seventeen-year-old's careful mask of calculated indifference begins
to crack. So many overwhelming emotions are rushing back to him,
memories that he'd do anything to forget. Gabe wants to scream at her
to get out, get out of this house and out of my life
and ask her if she wants
to destroy what little security he'd built up for himself all these
years, to stir up even more conflict just as the scars of the first
one are beginning to fade, and at the same time he wants to hug her
back and cry and run away with her, this older sister whom he knows
he loves even though he never really understood her. He stands there,
feelings freezing up, eyes blinking in confusion as he stares at the
couple.

Rose
begins to speak, but she is cut off by a shout from the inside of the
house. “Gabe! Did you get that?” She turns, ready to run, but Evy
raises her hand and shakes her head lightly. Wait. Stay. I
promise you, it's going to be better this way.

“Gabe!
Who is it?”

“Nothing,”
Gabe mumbles, but his voice is too soft to be heard and it's too late
to go back now, anyway. His mother is already on her way to the door,
and after a couple of seconds, she comes up behind him, trying to
peer around and see whom he's talking to. When she does, her face
pales.

“Hello,
Lisa.” The warmth in Rose's tone of voice vanishes as she meets the
eyes of the woman she refuses to call “mother.” They look
alike—thick auburn hair cut at shoulder length, pale skin, willowy
limbs and small noses—but that's as far as Rose wants the
resemblance to go. A sick feeling builds up in her stomach as her
mind oscillates between confidence, hatred, timidity, and longing.

“Rosalie,”
she says with a curt nod, tone just as icy as her estranged
daughter's. She glances briefly at Evy, the corner of her mouth
twitching in an obviously disapproving expression. Evy straightens
her posture and meets the woman's eyes with a cold stare of her own,
but she has already turned her attention back to Rose. In a moment of
spontaneity, Evy grasps her partner's hand and holds it tight. We
can love just as much—or maybe even more—than you can.

Lisa's
eyes are drawn immediately to this gesture, which years ago would
have seemed like such an innocent gesture. She had been so naïve
back then, so oblivious to what was going on right under her nose, in
her own house. And now... she had tried to forget it for so long, but
now everything's coming back, and her mind is a battleground between
what she loves and what she thinks is right. Rose must think of her
as bigoted and cruel and downright evil—even
Lisa herself can easily see how that might be true. But it's not.
She still loves Rose, and she wants so badly to mend the bonds and
rebuild the bridges that were broken and burned away that awful day.
But she has moral standards and she needs to be able to uphold them,
if only for Gabe's sake.

She looks back up at her daughter's face, not knowing quite what to
say. Finally it comes out: “Your father isn't going to like this.”

“Where
is he?” Rose says softly.

“Work.”
It's a lie—Michael is upstairs taking his usual afternoon nap. Lisa
and Gabe and maybe even Rose know that. But none of them want to wake
him up and make him relive those hellish memories of the mess their
family has created.

There
is a moment of silence. Rose takes in a breath and steps back, ready
to turn away and leave the home for the second time and for good.
Immediately, a word slips out of Lisa's mouth—wait—and
as she begins to wonder why she said that, the oven makes a beeping
sound from inside the house. “Peach crumb cake,” she explains and
then remembers with a sharp pain that crumb cake was always Rose's
favorite. They lock eyes for the third time, both of them seeing and
feeling emotions that can't be expressed in words.

Gabe's eyes drift from Lisa to Rose and back again before stepping
back into the house and saying, “Come in. We can talk it out.”
None of them are sure if that will really help fix things or just add
more fuel to the fire. After a tense pause, Lisa nods and goes in to
check the oven. Rose glances at Evy, who nods and gives her a kiss on
the cheek for what she hopes is encouragement, and both of them head
inside.

2 comments:

Wow, you can feel the tension simmering off the page! What comes next is anybody's guess (but the author's perogative) . . . especially when Dad wakes up (or is he secretly listening from above). I'm not sure I want to know what comes next, but eating dessert always helps everyone's mood!! -- Ninja Dad